Water In My Lungs

Invidious

She slammed her door closed. 4:32 a.m. The sun was peaking over the horizon to her right and she glanced over her shoulder. The docks shone brilliantly as the foreground to the large lake and a shiver sailed down her spine.

"Just work your shift, and go home. Don't fucking worry about it," she scolded herself as she entered the coffee shop. The lights were all on and there was a bustling in the back of the bakery.

"G'mornin', 'Stelle!" came Alan's booming voice. She smiled meekly at the enthusiasm of her boss; his large, round form toddling out from the open doorway. His brown hair was slicked back, she could tell in a display of his positive change in demeanor. "How are ya, this morning?" Estelle put her purse on the counter before she spoke.

"I'm fine. Happy to be at work," another thin smile slipped between her words, "How's your wife? You seem happy." Alan grinned widely and put his meaty hands on his hips triumphantly.

"She's quite well, the sickness has almost left her and I am a thankful man. A thankful man, indeed..." He began to saunter off towards his office.

"How's home life? Connor? She doing well?" he asked before disappearing into the confines of the small corner room. Another small pang of guilt latched on to her at the mention of her best friend and the lie she'd told her.

"She's good. Killian's got an eye on her so she's doing much better." She picked up her purse and began to inch towards the back.

"Ah, good ol' Killian. There's not a better set of hands for her to be in." With that, Estelle laughed and Alan vanished into the office.

She shoved her personal belongings into one of the small cubby holes the shop provided both her and Rory, cursing quietly to herself when the medium sized leather pouch nearly didn't fit.

Behind her, an apron lay sprawled out on the table and she turned towards it with a long pause. Putting it on meant starting work and the energy that required had escaped her over the last few days. She grabbed it with a groan and began to wrap it around her thin waist when the bell up front jingled. She stopped mid motion of tying the bow behind her back and stared out the door.

"Coming!" she chimed. Her black flats clicked over the linoleum flooring, head down while she focused on tying the string in a tight bow. As she entered the room, the air felt cold and still. She slowly lifted her gaze to the presence standing in front of the counter and choked back the rush of adrenaline.

"Good morning." Bedivere was smiling softly at her, hands flat against the metal surface the register sat on.

"G-good morning, Bedivere," she stuttered. Using the shelf for balance, she stood very still and looked at him, her muscles aching with the forced smile. "What can I get you? The bakery isn't quite up and running yet but-" He cut off her rambling with a wave of his hand.

"You know what I like." His voice remained quiet as it always was but a terrifying confidence emboldened his words. She turned and her hands shook as she reached to punch in his order.

"Estelle?" Alan called from the opposite side of the room. Worry etched across his features.

"Yes, Alan?" She praised his good timing, thankful for the opportunity to detach from Bedivere's overbearing attention.

"Everything alright?" He hung out of the doorway, one hand holding onto the frame. His light eyes clouded as they brushed over Bedivere who turned to him and leaned on an elbow coolly. The same frigid smile remained.

"Yeah!" Estelle chirped, hoping her false assurance would be convincing. "Yeah, we're great. He's just getting an Americano." She didn't look at Bedivere.